A Study in Sex
by badwolf0924
Summary: Sherlock decides to experiment on John... I decided to try my hand at... Classy Smut? Johnlock. Sex. Fluff. All that good stuff. Rated M. For Serious.


**I've been distracted from writing my multi-chapter fic... Kind of had writers block... But I decided to challenge myself with some classy smut of sorts. **

**And by classy smut I mean I do not say the word cock once in the whole thing. I hate that word. Nor is there any "fuck me" or anything like that. Because in my mind, John and Sherlock wouldn't say any of those things... Even if they behaved differently in the bedroom, which, yknow people do... I still don't think Sherlock would be like, "I'm going to fuck you" Just saying...**  
**Rambling...**  
**K, Enjoy!**

"Sherlock!?" John Watson shouted, walking into his flat at 221B Baker Street.

"Yes?" Came the exasperated response. John rounded the corner to see absolutely nothing.

"Where are you?" He said into the seemingly empty kitchen.

"Right here." At the reply John looked up to see Sherlock Holmes clinging to the ceiling.

"Uh... How are you on the ceiling?" He stared up at the thin detective who was removing his feet from some sort of straps.

"Interesting, you ask how not why. It's a new sort of Velcro that only comes undone by undoing a special lock."

"Ah, how interesting, why didn't I know that." John rolled his eyes and dodged the thin man who was lowering himself down from the ceiling.

"Well I wouldn't expect you to know about the scientific advances being made by... You were being sarcastic." Sherlock replied, observing the enthused smile on his friends face.

"Right. Good job." He began to set down his grocery bags and set about putting the various items away. He opened the fridge to find a freshly severed foot, "You know Sherlock, you're really quite lucky you got me as a flatmate... I'm not sure anyone else would have been able to put up with having severed body parts in their fridge next to the milk."

"There's no milk in there." Sherlock replied turning towards the shorter man, who took out a jug of milk and put it next to the foot, "Ah. It would seem that now there is indeed a foot next to the milk. But that John, is why you're the best."

"Well thank you." John said satisfied and began making tea.

**10101010101010101**

"So what do you say we do an experiment, John Watson?" Sherlock asked later that evening.

"Uh, I am not getting up on the ceiling, no. Not happening." He replied, sitting back in his chair.

"Not what I meant. Be right back." The detective quickly got up from his chair and disappeared into his bedroom, coming back out holding a bottle.

"Is that vodka?"

"It would appear so." Sherlock looked at the bottle and then back to John.

"Are we pouring it on the foot and measuring the absorption rate?" John rested his head on his hand and gave Sherlock a tight lipped smile.

"Good idea, I'll use grey goose for that though, No, we... Are going to drink it."

"Really?" John said, quite amused, "Well alright, let's get to it."

"Way ahead of you." Sherlock pulled two glasses out of seemingly nowhere and poured he and john three ounces of the liquid each. They tipped their glasses towards one another and downed it with a quick 'Cheers'.

"Yikes, that... Yeah, that is potent." John said, scrunching his face.

"Another?" Sherlock mused.

"Another!" Thus began a long hour of drinking.

"No but seriously Sherlock," John slurred an hour and eight drinks later, "Have you ever been with anyone? Romantically?" He finished, downing his ninth. Sherlock looked at him, wide eyed. John figured he would have looked hurt, had he been able to feel human emotion.

"Of course I have! I'm not a virgin if that's what you're insinuating, I did go to uni." Sherlock replied, glass in hand, leaning forward, doing his best not to spill the drink.

"Alright, man or woman?" John said, grabbing the bottle and pouring himself another drink, they were getting less approximate by the chug.

"That's always everyone's favorite question! Is the great Sherlock Holmes gay!" John scoffed at his calling himself great, laughing and sipping on his drink before continuing.

"Well? Are you?" John arched his eyebrows and leaned forward, looking into the detective's bright eyes.

"Why is everyone so interested in this question, especially you John, I expected more from you!" Sherlock downed his drink and set the glass on the floor.

"Well I've known you for years Sherlock! We live together, you died and came back from the grave! Yet I don't know a single thing about you, not really." He grabbed Sherlock's hand and interlaced their fingers, "Just trying to figure out some things about my best friend."

"Right, so sorry about that again... But if you must know, Mr. Nosy pants," Sherlock said, pressing his finger to John's nose, "It was with my psychology professor who was a man... So if my sexual identity is so important to you, I guess I do find men more attractive."

"Aha!" John exclaimed, holding up his glass and taking another swig.

"But that's not to say I can't appreciate an attractive woman!"

"Here here!" John laughed.

"But who can look at anyone else when all I see is Doctor John Watson." Sherlock said and John stared at him for a moment, his stomach turning and his pulse racing, "So sorry John, that was one more deduction about myself than I had intended... Again so so sorr-" Sherlock's apology was stopped short by John leaning forward and kissing him. The abrupt action made Sherlock sit still, and he almost couldn't move. He soon found himself melting into the action, moving his hand up to cup the side of John's face. They allowed their lips to part and their tongues to explore as the kiss deepened, their hands becoming ironically unattached. John leaned into it more, pushing the detective back against his chair. He had one hand on sherlock's thigh for support and the other was exploring his curly locks. He carefully placed his knee in between the detectives legs, placing his other one between Sherlock's right leg and the side of the chair. Sherlock wrapped his arms around the smaller mans waist. Sherlock found himself in a situation he had only dreamed about, these dreams coming back to him in a fit of deja vu. John found both hands had tangled themselves in Sherlock's hair, lightly pulling, giving him control over their movements. Though neither of them wanted to, they broke for air, resting their foreheads against one another, panting, eyes still closed.

"I don't know about you but I am parched." John said suddenly backing up and turning to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water. Sherlock couldn't help but let his eyes drop to the slight bulge in his friends pants as he backed away. This observation caused the detective to smirk, a fire he'd thought had been extinguished found itself being reignited. He got up and followed the good doctor into the kitchen. "Do you want any Sherlock?" John asked, gulping down his glass of water.

"No, I think I'll be just fine." Sherlock replied, John jumping a bit at the closeness he hadn't expected. Sherlock took control this time, grabbing John's face, bringing their lips together once more. He pushed John back against the fridge, dropping down a bit to pick up the doctor by his bottom, which brought out an exclamation from the doctor, but he wrapped his legs around the slender detective nonetheless. Sherlock began rhythmically grinding against john, which cause a small moan to form in the back of his throat. Sherlock smiled against the kiss, moving his hands underneath John's shirt, feeling his way along his back. He moved his kisses down to John's neck, allowing him to catch his breath.

"Bloody hell, Sherlock." John exclaimed as Sherlock began to nip at John's clavicle.

"I'll be right back." Sherlock said, letting John down, "When I return, I expect you to have much less clothing on." He said with a wink and hurried to his room to grab something special. John ran his hand through his hair and took a deep breath. Without second guessing himself he quickly removed his jeans and shirt, leaving only his pants on, he looked down and observed them, slightly embarrassed at the color. Sherlock came rushing back into the kitchen holding a small blue bottle and immediately crashed back into John, his nerves completely vanished. John reached his arms around his neck as Sherlock picked him up and set him on the table, pushing aside his microscope and laying John down. Sherlock began kissing down John's neck to his chest, when he got to the top of his pants, John stopped him.

"Sherlock, are you sure about this? I don't want you to do something that you..." John started to say but Sherlock kissed him.

"John, I have never wanted anything more." He said smiling. He moved back down and slipped off the red pants his best friend was wearing, revealing his erection. Sherlock immediately slipped it into his mouth, causing a gasp and a forward jerk from John. He entangled his fingers in the dark curls pulling lightly as he tried desperately to hold back the moans. John could feel himself slipping closer to the edge of ecstasy, Sherlock must have sensed it as he wrapped his arms around John's legs and pulled him closer, sending more of his member down the detective's throat.

"God Sherlock!" John stammered, tapping his friends arm. Sherlock dug his nails into John's hips, preparing for his daily dose of protein. He hit his climax, shifting his hips forward, but the detective moved with every stride and convulsion, dragging his fingers up Johns sides, causing the doctor to shiver slightly, "Mm, well... That... That was incredible. Brilliant. Yeah, bloody brilliant." John said, looking into Sherlocks eyes, laughing slightly.

"I'm glad you think so." He responded, smiling and giving his friend a light kiss, "Shall we get cleaned up?" He proposed.

"So soon? You don't want to do anything more?" John responded, glancing over to the small bottle of lubrication Sherlock had brought out prior to their phallic acts.

"Not yet, that was just for you." He gave him a light kiss and smiled, standing up and running off to his room to get dressed. John laid on the table a moment longer, running his hand through his hair, replaying the events that had just unfolded. With a deep breath he sat up and began to put his pants on.

"Sherlock, your phone is beeping like crazy!" John shouted, and the detective came back into the room.

"Yes I know I heard it ring a couple times during... Must be Lestrade, without a doubt he'll be coming over any moment now." Sherlock responded, John understanding why he didn't want to continue their experiment. Just then they heard a knock at the front door. Mrs. Hudson opened it.

"Oh boys, the detective inspector is here to see you!" She shouted up to them, and within seconds they saw Gregory Lestrade stroll into their flat.

"Blimey Sherlock don't you answer your phone anymore?"

"No, never. I find it extremely tedious and dull. I much prefer texting."

"Of course you do..." He rounded the corner and looked at the kitchen, the microscope was knocked over on the table and there was a glass and a few papers on the floor, "Geez what happened in here?"

"Just an experiment." Sherlock responded.

"Yeah, probably one of the most interesting experiment's that has ever happened on that table." John said, stifling a laugh, shifting his eyes up to Sherlock, who returned the knowing glance.

"You and your experiments Sherlock. You're going to blow up the flat one day." Lestrade scratched head and took a breath, deciding to avoid thinking about John and Sherlock's mild giddy nature.

"I assure you there was a minor explosion, but it was completely contained." Sherlock said, John burst into laughter.

"Well that's good." Lestrade took one last look at the kitchen, noticing the blue bottle on the floor, but not fully comprehending what it meant, "But if you girls are done giggling, I'd like to talk about the case."

"Right, someone has been murdered." Sherlock said.

"Yeah, a teenage girl, on the west end."

"Any particular details?" Sherlock inquired.

"Well that's what you're for, isn't it?"

"I most certainly am." They all three left the flat hurriedly, heading to the crime scene, Sherlock more excited than his two friends, as always.

**010101010101010**

"It's quite simple really, due to the striations on her right wrist and the note in her pocket from a man she met in a bar last night, it would seem as though her husband is the killer." Sherlock deduced quickly after only five minutes of examination.

"How do you get that from striations?" John asked, not really questioning Sherlock, but rather giving him a chance to show off.

"They were obviously made with some kind of net, look at the patterns. You'll find that her husband, who you said worked on a ship..."

"Yeah, but he's been out for the past month, won't be coming back for another week." Lestrade interjected.

"Check your records again Lestrade, I think you'll find he came home early, and discovered his wife had just had a lover... Case closed." Sherlock stood up, closed his magnifying glass and straightened his jacket.

"Coming, John?" He asked, turning towards his friend who was still behind, answering a question Lestrade asked about the body.

"Uh, yeah. Coming." He nodded to the DI and headed after the detective.

"I have no doubt." Sherlock muttered so only John could hear, who then swatted him on his arm.

"Behave."

"Or what?" He retorted, John was taken aback.

"Oh wow, you are flirty." They laughed and got into a cab.

"Hungry?" He asked.

"Yeah. And still a bit drunk." John replied, and Sherlock told the cab to go to Angelo's. Once they got there they sat at their usual table by the window. Angelo came over with a candle as always, but this time John didn't protest.

"The usual?" He asked, and they nodded, looking at each other once they were alone.

"So... Sherlock, tell me, where did tonight come from?"

"Didn't you hear my explanation at the scene?" He replied, John stared at him, "Ah... You mean earlier." He cleared his throat, "Well need I remind you John, you kissed me first."

"I did..."

"And do you regret it?" He asked, somewhat hesitantly, afraid of the answer.

"Not at all. No. Never. I quite liked it."

"I know." Sherlock's eyes widened and his brows arched slightly as John moved his hand to meet his.

"It's a bit new for me, I know it's strange for you too. But I have honestly never been interested in any man before. And you... I mean obviously the attraction has been there for a while."

"Since the day you met me." Sherlock said.

"Uh, sorry?" John tilted his head and squinted his eyes a bit. A smile forming.

"Yes John. You've been attracted to me since we first met. I deduced it, I mean I did tell you I was married to my work, did I not?"

"That's because I was finding it hard to form the right kind of question... And you thought I was coming on to you."

"You were, in your own awkward way." Sherlock's response had John flushed, his cheeks turned red and he let out a breath, thinking back to the first day they met.

"Uh... Yeah ok. Sure, let's go with that. I was certainly intrigued by you, still am."

"And I'm glad." They smiled at each other for a moment, before John spoke up.

"So... What does this mean for... Well for us?" He looked down at their hands, intertwined on the table top.

"Does it have to mean anything? Can't we just continue to be who we are? We live together, correspond daily, solve crimes together... Well I do most of the solving, you give the smart ass remarks and can handle a gun. But I don't see why anything has to change, except, well... Maybe we won't be sleeping in separate rooms much anymore."

"Right, good. As long as nothing gets weird." John said, "I can't lose you, not again. It would be too much. So just promise you won't freak out or disappear to South America."

"I promise John. Believe me, I don't think I could take another two years away from you." Sherlock said, cupping John's cheek. They stayed like that for a moment until they were interrupted by the arrival of their meals.

"Oh look at you two, so much love." He dropped off their plates and left them, trying not to spoil the moment. They laughed and glanced at each other briefly before scarfing their dishes.

**01010101010101010**

"No, you're lucky Donovan wasn't there tonight, she would have killed you for solving that case so quickly. She gets just as bored as you, y'know, when she has nothing to do." John told Sherlock as they walked up the stairs to their flat.

"Yes, she is very awful, I am so glad she wasn't there to call me a freak and gawk at my methods."

"She doesn't do that anymore, not since you've come back." John said, turning towards Sherlock who wrapped his arms around the shorter man.

"No, not much. Only when you're not looking." He laughed and leaned in for a kiss. After a brief moment of closeness, John broke them apart. He walked into the kitchen and grabbed the bottle off the floor.

"Lestrade saw this earlier, he just chose not to mention it." He held it up and smiled.

"I know... Woops." Sherlock held up his hands and shrugged, "Oh well, he doesn't care. I'm pretty sure he has the hots for my brother."

"Did you just say the hots?" John asked amused.

"Yes. I did."

"Has he even met Mycroft?"

"They met once, Mycroft asserted his authority over the poor detective inspector Graham Lestrade." Sherlock revealed, removing his coat and scarf.

"Greg." John reminded him, Sherlock shrugged.

"Whatever. Mycroft gathered that his palms began to sweat and his pupils dilated ever so slightly, showing signs of attraction."

"Huh... Interesting."

"Now since my brother isn't one for physical attraction or any such activities one would do when encountering one such individual, he completely ignored these facts. But since has visited Lestrade at least once a month. I think homosexuality might be a part of the Holmes DNA."

"But your poor brother has no clue what to do." John walked to Sherlock, putting his arms around the thin detective's waist. Sherlock ran his hands through the sandy blond locks of he shorter man and held his head in his hands.

"Absolutely no idea. Neither does Lestrade, he's never courted someone as brilliant as my brother."

"Did you just pay your brother, Mycroft 'British Government' Holmes, a compliment?"

"Oh no, did I?" Sherlock asked, slightly horrified, "I take it back."

"Can't be undone." John mused, and Sherlock kissed him again, walking him back into the hall leading to his bedroom, "And where are you trying to take me Mr. Holmes?" John teased, unbuttoning Sherlock's shirt.

"I think you know very well where I'm taking you Dr. Watson." He moved his hands down to John's bottom and the short doctor proceeded to jump up, wrapping his legs around the thin detective.

"Then take me." He kissed him harder pulling his own shirt over his head as Sherlock laid him down onto his bed. John took a moment to assess his surroundings, as this was one of the only times he'd found himself in his flatmate's room. The blankets were soft, most certainly goose down.

"I'll take you alright." Sherlock said, nearly ripping john's jeans and pants off together. He then removed his own, exposing what John had often thought about seeing, but never thought he would. These thoughts coming back to him suddenly.

"You know," John said as Sherlock moved his kisses down to his neck, taking the bottle of lubrication out of the doctor's hands, "You have to take it easy on me."

"Oh I know John, believe me, I know. And that will be the best part." Sherlock then popped the top and squeezed some of the gel onto his hand, he stroked it onto himself and left a bit on his fingers, "I'll start with these," He said, wiggling his index and middle fingers at John, "And only when you're comfortable will I move to this." He pointed down and John's eyes followed, growing wider when they laid upon his fully erect member.

"O-Okay. Go." John stammered, and Sherlock did as he promised, slipping his fingers in slowly, John jerked back a bit, it was more pressure than he had thought originally.

"I know, it's surprising isn't it?" He smiled and kissed his friend.

"A bit. Just... Ugh." John groaned, as Sherlock found his prostate.

"Do you want me inside you?" Sherlock whispered, John nodded and he removed his fingers, placing the tip at the opening, "Get ready, don't clinch." Sherlock instructed, and John nodded again. As the detective slowly thrusted, the doctor grabbed his arms and gasped.

The pressure was too much at first, John used his hands on Sherlock's arms to let him know that. Sherlock stopped, halfway in, his forehead resting against the doctor's. They gazed silently into each other's eyes before Sherlock kissed him softly. He slowly slipped his tongue into John's mouth and let them mingle for a moment before he stopped. John closed his eyes and nodded.

"Ok, keep going." He said, and took a deep breath, adjusting slightly beneath the detective. Sherlock obliged and pushed in further, causing a slight arch in John's back to form.

"You ok?" Asked the detective as John's hands made their way down his back to Sherlock's arse.

"I think so, don't stop now." He smiled slightly, "We've gotten this far, let's see what happens."

"That's the spirit, Watson." Sherlock smiled back, pulling out slightly, only to push back in as he crashed his lips against his bloggers. He began a steady rhythm, pulling out and pushing in slowly until he was sure the pain had slightly subsided, "How are you feeling, John?" He asked.

"It's getting better." He said, "Go a bit faster." John's hands slid back up to rest one on Sherlock's arm and the other found itself tangled in his hair.

"With pleasure." Sherlock growled as he thrust back into his flatmate. He began moving quicker, his body undulating with grace as he pleased his doctor. John began feeling tremor's of pleasure and started to pull lightly at his geniuses hair. He pulled Sherlock's face to his, resting their heads against one another. Their breaths began to sync as sweat beaded from their brows.

"Oh god-"

"Call me Sherlock." He smirked and John opened his eyes, shooting the detective a look.

"Shut up, you git." He laughed and kissed him hard and sloppy as a jolt of what could only be described as pure ecstasy shot through him; He groaned and Sherlock smirked harder. He loved that he was making these sounds of pleasure escape from his soldier's mouth, he pushed in harder, faster, deeper, he wanted more sounds. He rested his head against John's as he moved quicker, and he got the sounds he wanted.

"Bloody hell, Sherlock." John panted into the man's neck, he saw his opportunity and he took it, he clamped his teeth around that perfect porcelain skin and a deep baritone moan came from the detective's throat. He raised his head to meet the doctor's eyes and they smiled.

"Please do that again." Sherlock asked, and it was John's turn to smirk.

"With pleasure." John pulled Sherlock back down and began nipping at his neck and collar bone, being sure to linger long enough in the spots no one would see. Sherlock began to feel his climax rising and the pressure John was applying with his hand to Sherlock's arm told him the same was happening.

"Sherlock" John whispered, "Don't stop, god don't stop." He stopped nipping and thrust his head back against the pillow as Sherlock's motions got more sloppy and his moans got louder. He rested his head against John's and they breathed together as their moments came simultaneously. They rode out the waves of euphoria together, eyes still closed, foreheads touching. Sherlock suddenly came to a halt above John and neither of them wanted to move. The detective made sure to store this moment into it's own special room in his mind palace, a place he would never delete. It deserved that much. The first time he made love to his John.

"My John." Sherlock repeated aloud in barely a whisper. John opened his eyes and saw the detective still had his closed. He smiled softly and kissed him as Sherlock collapsed slightly. John wrapped his arms around the thinner man, neither of them stirred as they breathed together, coming down from their high.

"Christ, Sherlock." John whispered as the detective rolled onto his side, John followed suit and they laid face to face. John wrapped his fingers in dark curls and Sherlock let his hand run up and down his bloggers back. They looked at each other, seeing nothing but perfection in their counterpart.

"Did you enjoy it?" He asked.

"I'd say so, yeah." John sighed and stroked Sherlock's cheek.

"I lied." Sherlock said suddenly.

"About what?" John asked, confused.

"I never had sex with my psychology professor." Sherlock admitted sheepishly, "We only... what do you call it... fooled around."

"Really?" John gave the detective an incredulous look, "Why lie?"

"I didn't want you to think I was a virgin. I know it's childish." Sherlock sighed.

"It's... I understand." John said, kissing his detective softly, "So I'm your..."

"First?" Sherlock asked, "Yes." John smiled and continued caressing his cheek.

"So that makes two of us then, yeah? You're my first. I'm yours. It's kind of nice." John admitted.

"That it is." Sherlock agreed and they laid there a moment longer.

"Sherlock?" John asked.

"Mm?" He replied, his eyes closed.

"Why did you choose today?"

"What do you mean?" Sherlock asked, though he knew the intention.

"You know what I mean you bloody bugger. Why did you choose today of all days to conduct your experiment? You planned to get me drunk and tell me you loved me."

"I don't recall telling you I love you." Sherlock said and he opened his eyes to find John staring back at him, unamused, "Alright. I guess... This is the 5 year anniversary of us living together."

"Seriously?" John asked, he laughed slightly.

"Yes." Sherlock said, "Therefore, it is the anniversary of the death of my loneliness, of my seclusion, of my delusion that I was alone in this world. It's a reminder that you and I..." Sherlock trailed off, sighing.

"A reminder that you and I are made for each other?" John finished, half asking, half stating a fact.

"Yes." He replied.

"Sherlock." John said, the detective opened his eyes and looked into his bloggers.

"John." Sherlock smiled slightly upon saying his flatmate's name.

"I do love you." John stated, smiling back, "As a matter of fact, I'm in love with you. With Sherlock bloody Holmes."

"William Sherlock Scott Holmes." The detective stated.

"Alright Billy." John laughed and Sherlock glared, "Sorry. William Sherlock Scott bloody Holmes, I love you."

"I know." He smiled and kissed his blogger, "And the sentiment is returned, but don't think this means that I'm cleaning the kitchen."

"That's your mess in there!" John replied, still laughing. He rubbed Sherlock's arm, moving up to stroke the detective's hair.

"I made it because of you." Sherlock tried, sounding like a child.

"Oh, well that's fine then." John rolled his eyes, moving to get up but Sherlock held onto him, keeping him in place.

"Don't move just yet." Sherlock pleaded, "Can we just stay like this a while longer?"

"You don't think it's boring?" John asked, befuddled.

"Nothing's boring as long as I'm with you." Sherlock confessed, planting a kiss in his blogger's hair, pulling him into a position where he could move his kisses down, kissing his cheek next, then his nose, then his lips, "My John Watson." He sighed, content.

"Sherlock." John breathed, catching the detective's face between his hands, "What does this mean?" His face became suddenly serious.

"Does it have to mean anything?" Sherlock asked, not quite grasping the full extent of John's question.

"Yes, it does. We can't just go on pretending this didn't happen." John blinked and Sherlock smiled.

"I don't want to pretend." He began, "Don't think my inability to name our relationship means I don't want to acknowledge it. I do. I am yours if you'll have me, and if you'd like to be, you are mine."

"Brilliant." John grinned, the smile pulling a grin from Sherlock in return, "Bloody brilliant." He pulled Sherlock in to meet his lips.

**I know it's like a mix of smut and fluff... **

**I couldn't decide. I just love it all. **

**Thanks for reading! Hopefully my writer's block for my other story will dissipate!**


End file.
